


Home Is Where the Heart Is

by TheGirlWithBrightEyes



Series: Fragments of Life [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Deep thought, Home, Inner Dialogue, Love, M/M, Processing, letting go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 08:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19988833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithBrightEyes/pseuds/TheGirlWithBrightEyes
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have agreed to move on and move from London.Aziraphale does not regret his decision for a second, but it's still difficult to let go of his bookshop.





	Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes we hold onto things for all the wrong reasons, just because we do not ask ourselves the question why we do it.
> 
> London burned in 1666, Crowley helped administer it's development. Soho in Westminster was not yet completed when he and Aziraphale met.

Aziraphale took the decision without a moment's hesitation - to move on, to leave Soho, to find somewhere else, this time together with Crowley, to heal him. And he doesn't regret it. Not for a second. He loves Crowley. Love him more than anything, but...

It's still hard.

To step out of his cab in front on the bookshop, his home for hundreds of years and know it soon will not be anymore. After all that had happened, he still loved it. Loved the old, worn keys, the tinkle of a bell as doors with hand-blown glass panes swung open. Loved the scent of century old dust, of the feel of creaking, leather bound tomes etched with gold. Cherished the creaking of the floor, the smell of old polish, even the worn wood almost rounded after many feet.

He doesn't have to part with his books, not yet. He can still bring with him all the trinkets and gifts from humans long gone but cherished by a mind that remembers when it wants to.

Still. It feels strange to sit down and write the sign he's to put in his window. That after several hundred years the A.Z Fell and Co bookshop is closing quite silently. Packing up to leave.

_I can help you pack, if you want me to._

It's sweet, Crowley's offer, but Aziraphale had declined it. He has several reasons. Perhaps the most important one being that he cannot bear to bring Crowley back here after seeing the bookshop in Crowley's ether. He doesn't think he will ever forget. But there is another reason, too.

Slowly packing everything down into boxes will be a ritual. A farewell to a home Crowley had built for him, all those years ago. He still remembers that meeting, back in the 17th century and it brings a smile to his face.

He had visited Crowley's home back then, or at least his front, and been served a scrumptious dinner highly inspired by French cuisine. They'd drunk wine and spoken long into the night, and they'd been so comfortable together. Crowley had talked about his plans for London as it was being rebuilt, and Aziraphale had eventually confided that he was considering opening a bookshop. It had come as a surprise when a drunk Crowley promised to build something for him in Westminster.

_I'll make sure you're comfortable, angel. It'll be just the place for you, promise. You'll just have to wait a few years._

This bookshop and it's flat had been the result.

A labour of love. He'd realised it many years later. A gift so great he couldn't come up with any way to repay the demon for it. A gift that now haunted him.

He could see Crowley's love in every corner of the shop even now. In how the flat had been built. The large windows to let in the light. The cosy nooks. The hardwood. The brass details. The contemporaries - from the time although they were old now, of course. Crowley's little touches everywhere.

As Aziraphale stood there, in his rooms, his heart aching, he realised why it was so hard to leave. To close down. To abandon the place.

It was because he loved him. Because he had loved him for so long, unable to tell him. The bookshop had become a substitute for the love he thought he could never have. It was the warm embrace of Crowley's arms around him. Crowley's smile. All their meetings.

For so long, it had been there in a way Crowley could not. And now? He had all that love. He didn't need to make do with holding precious memories in his hands, in his heart. Of all the gifts Crowley had given him, there was one that would never, ever compare.

His heart.


End file.
